The more You Learn, the less You Know
by Kiiddo
Summary: It was all suppose to be over - she had sealed all her deals, repaid all her debts, returned all of her favors no matter how dark. Her days of adventuring and dragon slaying were finished. Unfortunately, even after both wars, peace was never to be found in Skyrim. Not with a prince who forever craved knowledge of the unknown, and who a better scavenger than the Dovahkiin herself?
1. Radioactive

_ahahahaha, i have no idea what i'm doing. but i'm gonna be honest right now it's rated M for my mouth, and well, the dwarves bc they need soap on their tongues._

 _pls don't sue me, or make me pay for your therapy bills._

 _i'm a poor ass college student. k thnx._

 _honest to god i have no idea where i'm taking this. i just woke up one day and thought "omg?! i wanna do a skyrim fanfic? and i wanna cross it over with the hobbit like what i'm a genius why has no one thought of this?" but then i realize if i'm failing at math i'm going to fail at being original too bc someone has probably already thought of this idea (obviously there's a fucking catagory for it hahahahhahahahahha fuck me). let's see where it goes._

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 **Chapter One: Radioactive.**

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It _always_ snowed. It _always_ stormed. The sun _never_ shone through the grey clouds that drowned out the sky like a thick, dirty ocean, _except_ for today it seemed. It was incredibly _depressing_ , though she preferred to stick around this dreadful town. _Why?_ Perhaps because it wasn't the only one practically in _ruins_ these days, and as she bent down to gently run her fingers over a fresh print – a subtle warmth radiating off it – in the deep snow, she hummed in her chest at the thought. They _still_ hadn't cleaned up the wreckage after that _civil war_. It was also the only place she seemed to really find peace among the world. She cared not for bustling cities, or large crowds, or loud atmosphere's, no, unless she was called to one on duty (not that it would _ever_ happen again. It had been quiet the while since she had been summoned _anywhere_ ). Standing back up, she reached her arm to her back and plucked an arrow from her quiver, her pale blue eyes like a bolt of thunder trailed over the tip of the small spear, and the topaz colored glass glistening like a gem in the morning rays that poured through the thinning pine trees. The area was good for hunting, and that was how she spent her time. The forest may have been blanketed in snow _ninety_ percent of the time, but it was still _busy_ with _life_ – new and old – and a variety of fruits even if they were mostly berries, nuts, _and_ ingredients. Speaking of berries, she caught the color of blood peaking from the corner of her eye, and a smirk came over her face as she would remember the path she walked to come back later, but as of now, as her feet sank into the white land with a soft crunch, she continued onwards, gripping loosely to her bow and arrow. She was on a mission. A _delicate_ one.

A snort, a gentle and calming noise came from her side and she stopped, turning her head _very slowly_ , a few flakes of built up snow dropped from her hood, and she saw her prey; a beautiful a healthy Buck, it's rack _at least_ 8 points high. Not only could she get a good amount of stock from it, but she could get a fair price for its head on a mantle. _Not_ that money was a matter, more like a pass-time. She was quiet the collector; gems, ancient weapons, armor, you name it. Settling down further in her spot, she watched with narrowed eyes as the animal's ears twitched backwards, obviously hearing a sound it didn't like and its head shot up, causing her breath to halt and it felt as though _everything_ around her stopped. No, her life didn't depend on this, _not at all_ , but she had her reasons that this was so important to her. Waiting, listening to the sound of her strong heart pounding in her ears, she was so still with her eyes wide that she could almost feel the mixed blood in her veins _flow_ and _pump_ along with her heart, making her whole body feel as though it was shaking. It felt like an _hour_ that she sat with small diamonds glittering down from the sky, and the feel of the warm sun beating down onto her black clothing making her sweat, but it had _only_ been a few seconds, and she heard the majestic animal chewing again. Perhaps it _was_ a good thing she was part Wood Elf, or she would have had to train harder to hear such things. Put into action once more, she quietly docked her bow, and took her shot – a _flash_ of topaz crossed the woods, the sound of the small but deadly shaft buzzing past each tree, and the buck and birds screaming as the beast fell to the forest floor with an encouraging noise.

With a smile, she stood, though she felt _guilty_ as it laid on the ground writhing in pain, _crying_ out for help from its kin or the like. So, with a faster pace, she pulled out a small blackened and worn dagger from her thigh and struck the beast down, silencing it and sending its peaceful soul back home. Sheathing her dagger, she let her hands fall to her side for only a moment, letting the sounds of the forest flow through her pointed ears. Sometimes it was _strange_ to her how things to could go back to moving as though nothing had ever happened, even with the fact a woodland creature had just been slaughtered in front of any surrounding animal's eyes. The circle of life was _cruel_ thing. Reaching down and wrapping her gloves hand around the plush neck of the lifeless corpse, she slowly lifted it up with an inhuman strength, the muscles in her arm rippling and shaking, straining to hold the dead weight in the air before her. She tilted the head to one side, then to the other, examining it with guilty eyes. But it was all for a good reason. " _Fear not_ – you did not die in vain, Beast," she murmured, crouching down slightly and maneuvering so it rested across the span of her back and over her shoulder, and she stood up as straight as she could with a grunt. It would be an _agonizing_ trek, but her destination was not too far from her location.

Beginning her walk, she clutched onto the carcass with a tight grip, dodging trees, roots and, various plants as she slowly walked back down-hill. The tri-blood knew she _didn't_ have to make this journey alone, she could have _easily_ bought a companion with her, but that would defeat the purpose of her ' _get-away plan_ ' or her ' _vacation_ ' as her apprentice prefers to call it. The poor boy _never_ understood why she felt the need to get away; Winterhold was _not_ even big enough to consider a _town_ (though the boy _barely_ called it a _village_ himself), and the College _barely_ had any activities or anyone new coming. He was a good man, she couldn't deny, Onmund had helped through _several_ things and even when she was a student, she remembered how he fought along-side of her when she needed it. Even now, he had _pledged_ to her, especially the few times she had _saved his life_ when he was reckless with their travels. The young mage had seen things he would _never_ forget, and his blood pumped for _adventure_ like a true Nord, but that was not her… _not much anymore_. The same could not be said for Tolfdir, _unfortunately_ , as talented as her Master Wizard was, the older man wanted absolutely _nothing_ to do with their childish ways and preferred to stay at the College and keep a watch over the students, the professors and, the town. Though, like the younger Nord, he _understood_ what the tri-blood had been through and the _inability_ to stay settled in one place for too long (even though there had been several times Tolfdir had mumbled under his breath that _if he had traveled all over Skyrim and back he would prefer to sleep for a year and never set a foot outside his door unless it was for stock and food_ , something to which she would _always_ laugh at), but in the end he would touch her shoulder and giver her his _blessing_ , telling her to come back in one piece for several reasons; he was too old to handle the college as Arch Mage, he would miss her far _too much_ , and he _certainly_ didn't want Onmund in charge (the poor boy would _always_ get flustered and defensive at that).

Wrapped up in her thoughts, she realized she had _finally_ arrived at the steps leading up the hill to her small cabin. It was a homey little place, just enough space to live comfortable and keep everything she needed, unlike her quarters at the college that contained … _well_ , _all_ her belongings _; her armors, her gems, her books, her weapons, and her … special artifacts_. Trekking up the stairs, she stopped dead at the door, squinting her eyes at the sound of _multiple_ thuds inside of the small house. There seemed to be a pause before each one, followed by a disgusted grumble. Looking side-to-side and once behind her, she unsheathed her dagger and gripped It in her hand before _kicking_ the door open. It must have been a sight to see to whoever was in there because they let out a painful noise, followed by the sound of _several things_ hitting the floor; _a woman cloaked in all black, a large Beast on her back and a powerful dagger in her hand, and the blinding sunlight flooding the main room_. Moving _quickly_ into the room, she shut the door and _dropped_ the Beast. The sound of its skull sent a _terrifying_ crack throughout the room, but before she could act, the dagger was slapped from her hand and thrown into the fire as her vision – _no_ , the room filled with _multiple black spots_ and – "One, I find it _absolutely astonishing_ and _quiet offensive_ you would use a _Daedric_ blade in defense _against_ me, and _two_ … " the monotone voice drug out before it completely cut off, and bright blue eyes bet a single _burning yellow_ one, that of a cat or Kahjit. "Venison, _again_ , **Dovahkiin**? And here I thought the warrior of the world would _at least_ know a thing or two about a… healthy diet," the voice almost mused, although one who did not know better would guess he did not care at all about the conversation. "Or did that part of yourself _die_ away along with _Verulus_? Hmmm….?"

To anyone else, it should have seemed _strange_ – scratch that, _terrifying, disgusting, revolting, and the list could go on_ in the Dragonborns mind, to see nothing but a _black mass of shadows_ in the air as though it were stretching across the wall, pale-green _tentacles_ crawling and slithering out _and_ circling around nothing but a large golden eye with a slit pupil. Do not get her wrong, _every time_ she simply laid eyes on Hermaeus, she had to continuously tell herself _not_ to vomit all over a _Daedric prince_. That would surely end her life into an eternity of being _hunted_ by Hericine himself, or even _worse_ … _living her life in Hermaeus Mora's library taking care of his damned books_. But aside all of that, the blue-eyed female sighed, turning around to her kill once more, so _easily_ turning her back to one of the most _dangerous_ entity's to ever exist in all Tamriel. "That was _once_ ," she mumbled, lifting her catch in both arms with a grunt to throw it up onto the clearing on her wooden table. "I _no longer_ have the ring in my possession _anyhow_." the tri-blood huffed out, slowly running her hands over the hardening fur on the dead animal, almost as though she were _petting_ it. It _calmed_ her somehow. Maybe she _should_ get a pet…

"It's under your bed, _actually_. "

She froze, the muscles under her eyes twitching _slightly_ in annoyance at her visitor. _Honestly_ , out of _all_ the dark Princes and Princesses that she had met in her life-time, or the one that seemed to be most interested by her had to be _him_. Why couldn't it have been someone like Clavicus that was _mildly_ interesting, or Sheogorath the mad who tended to make her _laugh_ , or Vaermina who would want _nothing_ to even do with her after the whole 'skull' incident. No, she got the _walking dictionary_ of all Tamriel, and Divines knows where else. Sighing, she grit her teeth together in annoyance and gripped onto the wooden table a _little_ tighter. " _What, do, you, want_?" she bit out, holding her tongue from telling him _exactly_ how she felt about him.

It was almost _immediately_ that she felt something slimy and wet _slap_ across the back of her head, and the brunette had to hold back her gag reflexes. "Speak to me in such tone – _hold your tongue_ , _**Dovahkiin**_!" the voice seemed _almost_ stern that time, like talking to a child who was stepping over a line that their parent drew. "Or do you _forget_ who so _graciously_ helped you survive **Miraak**? Or are you _already_ forgetting things in your old age? Interesting, _really_ , the minds of you _humans_ … how important _and_ fragile your brains are…" Then he tapped, the very tip of his tendril poking her temple, and it sent a _large_ shiver down her spine, goosebumps breaking out over her paled skin.

 _Akatosh, Talos, Divines, help her._

The Dragonborn sighed deeply. " _No_ t that you did it out of the _kindness_ of your _heart_ , because I'm _more_ than sure you _don't actually_ have one – "

"I'm _summoning_ you on a _favor_ ," He cut her off _immediately_ , looking over his tendril like he had hands, fingers, and nails he was observing like some high-and-mighty _Jarl_ who was getting _bored_ with the whole situation. She wouldn't doubt if he was, cutting straight to the point like he did. Not many of these _Daedric_ beings enjoyed beating around the bush. A lot of them cut straight to the point, and while she could appreciate that, sometimes these bastards could just be rude-

Wait, what? Favor? _A favor_!?

Something inside of her _snapped_ , or was it the table seeing as she held a piece of ragged _wood_ in her hand, turning around to face the dazed-off Prince. " _What favor_!?" she shouted, her voice _rumbling_ in question and the ugly eye slid from the small mountain of books her had created over to her. "I _already_ did _your favor_ back in Solstheim. You _murdered_ _it_ – _him_ , _remember_?"

If Hermaeus had both eyes, he probably would have rolled them, but _no_ , instead he rolled _all_ of them, even the _small ones_ doting the black mass and it was the _second most disgusting_ thing the Dragonborn had ever watched. " _Of course_ , I remember. He was very useful."

"Then your trip was _wasted_ ," she growled, her chest _rumbling_ like thunder. It _never_ failed to _sicken_ her at how _easily_ these beings could _murder_ someone for their own _selfish_ reasons, but what right did she have to act all _righteous_ about it? How many times had she _killed_ simply to live? To make _money_? Or perhaps even for _nothing_ when she had simply gotten an _order_? _The war_ … all the _men and women_ she _slaughtered_ in the name of _Ulfric Stormcloak_ and a _free Skyrim_. Two things she wanted to _damn away_ for so long. _Damn the Nords, damn the Thalmor, the legion, all the gods – Daedric or not_. Sometimes she _hated_ them all, and it was almost in those times she could _understand why_ Alduin wanted to _rid_ this world of _every_ race except for their own and Akatosh, or _enslave_ the mortals that would serve him. But then, she remembered her friends; _the Companions, the College, the Blades, the Thieves Guild, even some of her brother and sisters in armor that battled beside her, and she remembered why she fought for this world_. Everything deserved a _second chance_. Though sometimes she thought the world would _never_ change, no matter what she had done for it. It wasn't that she wanted everyone to know of her good deeds… it was just, she wanted them to realize what could have been and that they need to… well, _change_.

"You _fail_ to understand, **Dovahkiin** ," came a _horrendous_ whisper that _chilled_ her to the bones, and the fire in her hearth flickered fiercely before dying, and her world was cast into _shadows_. The only thing she could see was a golden eye staring her down, the iris _shimmering_ in the faint sunlight like a pool of melted gold. Had it been anything else before her, it would have _entranced_ her, drawing her in, but a raging fire burned inside the pit of her stomach and it grew ever more, lapping at her immortal heart. Her icy eyes _screamed death_ , and held no fear as the sound of metal clicked against metal, her long sword unsheathing. The cold steel glimmered in the scarce light from her windows as the tip pointed only _inches_ from his eye. She couldn't _kill_ the bastard, but dammit, she could send the old fool back his library in _Oblivion_. "It _wasn't_ a choice."

" **Fid zey zek wah Sovngarde, Sivaas**." _**(Send me back to Sovngarde, Beast.)**_

 _She couldn't die anyway_.

* * *

 _/ pitifully rocks back and forth in her corner_

 _/ singing it's a hard knock life_

 _/ kumbaya_

 _it's been a really long time since i've played this game? or like, did anything in this fandom? so i'm like 99% all of my dovahzul its gonna be like 99999999% wrong as a mother fucker. if so, don't be afraid to beat the right words into my face? i'm pretty sure? i? deserve it? for this trash? ;u;_

 _but if i did do it right, and you do like it? fucking bow before you pleb? lmao. jk. it's trash. burn it. burn your eyes. burn your computers. burn your homes. burn yo kids. burn yo wives._


	2. The Edge of Night

honestly guys, thank you for the fav's and the follow. it means a lot to me, and i hope i don't disappoint anyone? even though i already know i probably will?

i know this is a slow burning story, but i really wanna put a lot of thought and effort into this, and try to make it as original as possible, which i'm hoping it's working.

as for a few answers for unasked questions: Nilawen is her name. she is part breton and bosmer, which isn't a mix a see a lot, but i thought it was really cute. i love tiny people who can kick ass, but that's probably because i'm one of them. yes, she seems a little depressing and suicidal and confused, but i wanted to make her as realistic as possible and make the whole story very immersive, so i wanted to add a character of someone who's very messed up by all the events she went through, and the fact that she will never truly find peace in any world, not even for herself. i realize the daedric prince is in this a lot, but i thought it was a cleaver idea on why she's there or how she got there, and i really liked mora? i wish he would of gotten more screen-time, i just hope i'm doing okay.

if i mess up on anything, please don't be afraid to let me know!

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 **Chapter Two: The Edge of Night.**

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For once, the forest was _silent_ , and it was a quiet that made the Dragonborn feel _completely alone_. But, as she lay sprawled out on the cold ground, a wall of snow surrounding her fallen body and her sword prodding from a nearby tree trunk, a large branch had fallen not too far from beside her, she realized that the forest had become _slightly_ destroyed. She couldn't see anything except for the sky above her – the _cold, wet, stormy_ sky reflecting in her icy blue eyes, and the snow had begun to seep through cracks in her armor to soak her clothes, her brown hair sprawled out around her head like a high crown set for a _glorious_ king. But was not that, in fact she was _nothing_ , as clouds of warmth puffed from her mouth with each heavy breath she took, her ribs shaking with expansion. It was quite _pathetic_ ; _the mighty Dragonborn disarmed, broken and beaten on the forest floor_. What price would some people pay to see this dishonorable sight? Probably a pretty piece of gold. " _Look at you_ ," she flinched, her brow twitching as though it would protect her against the world. God, how she had come to hate that voice or any one that resembled it. "So, so, _pathetic_. You're about as destroyed as your _cute_ little cabin."

 _Did he even know what the meaning of cute was_?

Lifting her head slightly, she groaned as she caught sight of the destroyed home. It was _completely_ in rubble, her belonging strewn _everywhere_ across the forest, and she just laid herself back down flat. There went that. How long would it even take her to rebuild it? Divines, she didn't want to know. "Why can't you just leave me _alone_?" She choked, lifting her head once more in feeble attempt to look at Hermaeus, but she was so sore, she didn't even want to _breath_. That's what she gets for picking a fight with a Daedric Prince – thrown through her wall, against trees and hung over a mountain side for a split second (she could _still_ feel the heat and the indent from where his tendril was wrapped around her throat). How foolish she was, but she could slowly feel her humanity _slipping away_ from her grasp _more and more_ as time went on, and the Dovah blood slowly taking over her. It made it hard for her to keep her temper down at times, and it caused her to react rashly to even some of the _smallest_ things. She didn't mean it, _never_ , and a part of her wanted to locked herself away in ruins far from civilization, maybe over on Solstheim where she couldn't hurt anyone _except_ for herself. She used to be so _kind_ , so _forgiving_ , had such _patience_ , and _cared_ for everyone she met. Now she wanted to shut out the world in fear of slaughtering someone who simply _looked_ at her wrong. Maybe she needed to spend a few months at the Throat of The World with Parthunaax… or maybe she needed to stay there for _eternity_.

" _Who_ are you?" He asked, his golden eye staring down at her in _disgust_. He watched her body lay limp in the snow, and to anyone who didn't know better would assume her to be _dead_. Her gaze to the sky was blank and far away, glazed over as though she were picturing her own death. Hermaeus wouldn't be surprised if she was. Asking once more, he was met with the same silence. Sighing from what mouth, his tendril shot out and wrapped around her throat once more, causing her to yelp as he picked her up, holding her into the air _several_ feet from the ground. He watched uninterested as she clawed at the appendage, trying to pry it off her neck. " _Answer me_!" The voice almost barked, as though he were commanding a misbehaving minion, and she gasped.

With white knuckled and a burning face, her teeth clenched before her mouth shot _wide_ open, trying to find the right words and the air to speak them. "I … I – " What had happened to her? Where was her _spirit_? "I am.. N- _Nilawen_.." By the Gods, her name use to make her _proud_ , even if she had _no_ memory of her family and her childhood, something about it use to bring a light feeling to her heart and her shoulders, as though the _world_ meant nothing, and no matter what danger she was facing, she would fine if she had her name. She could remember, even in that dirty wooden cart that was supposed to be taking her to her end, she still told Ralof with a _smile_ on her face who she was. It made the Nord happy to see someone who wasn't afraid of what was going to happen, but what did she have to fear at the time? She didn't remember _anything_ before that except for her name, and it was the bound-up king that sat beside her at that time who told her later what her races were ( _Breton and Bosmer_ , from what the King had decided). It all _disgusted_ her now. "I … _I am,_ _ **Dovahkiin**_." She rasped, the name falling from her chapped lips like a breath of _poisoned air_ leaving her lungs.

Letting her go, her body dropping like _dead weight_ against the forest floor once more, he watched her nurse the tender skin around her neck, greedily taking in the air around her. "Then _act_ like it," He told her, distain lacing his voice. "Get up, you're _disgracing_ your name. It's almost _pitiful._ "

"Did you get what you wanted Hermaeus?" She _hissed_ , painfully sitting herself against a tree, the ragged bark digging into her skin, but she cared not. It was a dull throb compared to everything else in her that _burned_ like embers. "To come push around an old _hero_?" Nilawen spat the last word like it was venom in her mouth, her icy eyes the definition of 'if looks could kill'. "To witness how _pitiful_ the Dragonborn has become?"

The Prince simply stared at her, and once again she wished she could read the bastard's mind and know what he was thinking. "If I wanted to see that, I would only need to glance at you _once_." He stated, causing her brow to twitch, and her mouth to turn down even more than it already was. He had no right to insult her, but _damn_ , he wasn't anywhere near wrong. It didn't even take Nilawen a long glance in mirror to notice all her flaws below and above the surface. She hadn't aged much over the years, but her face had become sunken, with dark circles forming under her eyes, and she had mentally and _spiritually_ become weak. The paler she became, the more the grotesque scars running along her face stuck out; _a small thin one running from her temple to her cheek-bone, and short but wide one gashed cattycorner from the beginning of her eyebrow to across the bridge of her nose to ending right under her eye, and two large disgusting ones running side by side from her cheek down and over her lips and past her chin to her neck._ "Look at what you have become, **Dovahkiin**. You have become _weak, old_ , you want nothing more than to lock yourself away and curl up in a ball and hide like a _frightened animal_."

"Like _you_?" Nilawen retorted softly, keeping her eyes cast down onto her side where hand now cradled it. "You stay in your library, _hiding_ from the world, reading your books and filing yourself with knowledge because you have _nothing_. You have _no one_ , either, Hermaeus."

For a moment, she thought this would it, he would _damn_ her for what she had just said to him. But he stayed silent for a minute, two minutes, three, simply peering at her with his large eye. "You are _right_ – I am _alone_ ," He stated, causing her to jerk in surprise, her eyes widening at his confession. "Humans are _not_ so welcoming, as you have noticed. Who else would sit so idly in front of me as you do, Nilawen," The prince addressed her by her name, and it was the first time she had ever heard it coming from him. It was always her title, never her name. "I have _no one_ , but my books to learn, but you, what do you have? _Everyone_. Your _silly little Companions_ , your _friends in Riften_ , your _friends right down the mountain at Winterhold_ , your secluded _Greybeards_ , your _Dov_ , and your list happens to _go on_ , yet you still try to _hide_ away from the world and sit in your _self-pity_ about how miserable your life has become." Nilawen hung her head even _lower_ , her shoulders slumping as he continued to speak, firing arrows at what she little confidence remained in her. But it was all true, though he failed to see the reason as to why, and it would be pointless to explain any of it to him. "Why do you think I turn to _knowledge_? To my _books_? It is how I learn. It _fulfills_ me because I have _no_ other way. But you _do_ , and that is why you will do me this favor."

" **Ni daar ontzos** …." The woman almost _whined_ , sinking down the tree trunk further. **(Not this again…)**

Once again, Hermaeus rolled his eye at her behavior. "We will be doing _each other_ a favor – it will be useful to me, and it will be good for you."

Narrowing her eyes in suspicion at the Prince, she shifted in her spot on the ground, clenching and unclenching her fists. "I _highly_ doubt you care anything about what is good for me." She gritted in annoyance.

" _Of course_ , I do," He mused, his golden eye dancing around the forest. "How else would _anything_ get done around here?"

Letting out a deep breath, she let he head fall back against the tree with a thud. It was all supposed to be _over_ – she had sealed _all_ her deals, repaid _all_ her debts, returned _all_ of her favors no matter how dark. Her days of adventuring and dragon slaying were _finished_. Unfortunately, even after _both_ wars, peace could _never_ be found in Skyrim. Not with a prince who forever craved knowledge of the unknown, and who a better scavenger than the **Dovahkiin** herself? But _maybe_ he was _right_. Her life was meant for more than to hide away like a _coward_ simply because she feared _herself_. Why not put it to good use? It was not like Hermaeus was going to have her do anything too _questionable_. He probably only wanted her to bring him a book or some other artifact he could suck the knowledge from. Who knows, maybe she would end up helping someone along the way. Maybe this is exactly what she needed. She was _destined_ for adventure, to be a _hero_ , a _thief_ , a _murderer_ , a _warrior_. It was in her _blood_ that coursed through her veins like a raging river, a part of her she _ignored_. But half of her heart _roared_ as it was kept captive, held down by hot iron chains six feet under the ground, and it _thirsted_ for something new. She had been trying so hard to hide that part of her, to _tame_ it, but how long could she keep her beast locked up before it finally tore her to pieces? "What would you have me do, Mora?" Came her soft voice life the sound of a warm breeze, but her eyes were strong like forged steel.

If the entity could be excited, that would probably be the prince now. "I knew you would come around," Of course he did. She grunted, shifting once again on the ground, her body not as sore as it was before so she began to stand up, her fingers clutching tightly at her armor as the soaked clothing underneath stuck to her skin like a leech. Before her, a small black swirl appeared in the air, and two pale-green appendages slowly slithered out of it, holding onto a hefty _book_ that they held out for her to take. "There is a land far from here, and I have only gotten a _tiny taste_ – like a drop of water to a dehydrating man – of its knowledge. Though I am _unable_ to obtain anymore." He hummed, staring at her as she took the book and the swirl before her dispersed.

Turning it from side-to-side, front-to-back, she looked the worn object over with a scrutinizing gaze. Opening the first page, her brows furrowed as it was empty and upon further inspection, the rest of them were as well. _Nothing_ was written on the tan paper. "And why is that?" Nilawen asked with a suspicious stare, closing the book with a light slam, a tiny amount of dust flying off it.

"As I stated before, you humans are not so welcoming to things you do not understand, or things that are _different_ ," Even as Hermaeus answered, the Dragonborns stare did not change and a deep sigh came from the voice. "I may or may not have entered through a wrong port-hole, and caused a bit of havoc with my beauty a few hundred years before. A bit like when Mehrunes began the Oblivion Crisis. _Good times_."

 _By the Gods, she hated this man._

The amount of annoyance she felt around Mora would _never_ change. He would _never_ change. Reaching up with one hand, she rubbed the side of her face where her bigger scars rested, a habit she did in frustration. "So, you mean to tell me you've been planning on sending me to a _strange_ land where _neither_ of us know _anything_ about their _civilization_ , what kind of _beings_ are there, their _language_ , or _anything_?" She questioned, trying to get her strong point across on how this wasn't a good idea, at all. Maybe he should just go and cause his own Oblivion Crisis there and do it himself.

" _Yes_? I mean, I believed you would have figured that out _without_ needing to ask – "

Waving her hand in the air to cut him off, her face was scrunched up in distain as she spoke. "No, no, I get it – I – _Yeah, I get it_."

"No one will know _you_ , either," Hermaeus told her, and her face got an indifferent look, her eyes now _completely_ focused on him, her grip on the book a little bit tighter. "The _**Dovahkiin**_ will _not_ be known to _anyone_ , nor will your _face_ , nor will _Dov_ , nor our _God's_ or _belief's_ , nor _anything_ we know of here, I'm sure of it. As I said earlier, I got a _small_ taste of their land and it is not _entirely_ different from ours; they _live_ the same way, have the race of Men (the only one I acquired knowledge of), but I caught no sign of them knowing many of the things we know, and oh… the things that had happened there I would surly like to learn more of…." He trailed off, a distant look in his eye and Nilawen could tell he was day-dreaming.

Reaching up her hand after a few moments of silence, she snapped her fingers a couple times with a bored look on her face. " _Tamriel to Mora_. Are you still with me or did you leave to your precious new land?" Maybe this would be good for her, maybe the prince was _right_. She would once again go someplace new, she would get away on an adventure, and she could hear that dangerous side of her heart _calling out_ and _slowly breaking free_ , sinking into her mind with the idea of it all. It _clawed_ and _screamed_ and fought once more, and the Beast inside of her wanted to be free. The other half of her wanted to stay here where it was _familiar_ , where her _friends_ are, where she might be _needed_ , but it also yearned for a place where no one knew she was the _hero of the world_ , no one would know of the things she had done – _good or bad_. She would simply be a face and a name, and that sounded _positively wonderful_ to her. " _If_ – " Hermaeus began to open his mouth and she raised her finger, silencing him so she could finish speaking. " _IF_ , I agree to do this, what if I change my mind later? How will I come back home?"

He was silent for a moment and she had a bad feeling in her gut as they stared each other down, then one of his tendril ran over the front of the book and it became slightly warm and buzzed under her touch. "The book; it is how you will get there, it will record every bit of information you gather _as soon_ as it enters your mind, and it will be able to bring you home," The voice informed her, and she nodded her head, listening intently. "I assume you must travel to Winterhold to… _gather_ your things before you depart," They both glanced at her destroyed cabin; her face shadowed in severe frustration as her fingers twitched. "When you are ready to leave, simply open the book to the first page and say: _**Zu'u yah fah vomindok, voreistig, vonahl. Zu'u bahlok fah nahkivaar ahrk wundun. Zu'u uth hi, ofun hin soven**_ **.** " **(I seek for the unknown, the uncertain, the inanimate. I hunger for discovery and travel. I command you, share your secrets.)**

"And when I want to come back?" Nilawen questioned, almost in awe at his words in Dovahzul.

"You tell it you're ready to return _home_."

The Dragonborn almost choked on her own air, slapping her hand hard against her chest, before glaring at him. " _Lies_ ," she hissed, her eyes narrowing at him. "That's _all_ I must say _, honestly_?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

Her face fell to an unamused stare once again. "You don't _have_ a heart, Mora."

" _Touché_." He hummed, tapping the tips of two of his tendril together lightly.

Turning her back to him, she sighed, looking over the book in her hands and running her finger tips over it, feeling it hum with magic. "I'm going to _regret_ this," Nilawen told herself, feeling her mixed blood battle over which was stronger and who made the decision. The Dragonborn knew which part of her would win, it was no secret.

"Only _slightly_. Go, **Dovahkiin**. Gather your things and head to _Middle-Earth_ ," her face twitched uncomfortably at the name of the place she was to be traveling too. "I will check on you when you arrive." Turning to face him, a million questions still raging war in her mind, she found he was no longer there and her shoulders slumped. _Wonderful_.

Glancing over her back to Winterhold, she swallowed thickly. What was she to tell Onmund and Tolfdir? They spent most of their free-time in her quarters, so they would notice her. That's where the most powerful ingredients for Alchemy and Enchantment table stayed. She did _not_ trust the new students not to mess around with it, so she kept it there. Looking up at the sky, she squinted her eyes at the strange light from the clouded sky. Nilawen had thought of simply slipping away in the middle of the night, but she did _not_ want them to think her _dead_ and she needed to leave _someone_ in charge while she was away until she came back. If she came back. _No_. She couldn't think like that. She _needed_ to come back, this place depended on it. She was needed here too much… or _was_ she? Tolfdir was not _fond_ of being the Arch Mage of the College but he was _perfectly_ capable and she trusted him with her life and the students, _and_ Onmunds. Brynjolf would be _perfect_ to be head of the Thieves Guild, and whether he believed it or not, he was an _excellent_ leader. Skjor _practically_ already runs The Companions as she spends most of her days at the school now, so there's absolutely _no question_ there on who she would leave it too (except maybe Aela, but where there was one, there was the other). Parthunaax did _not_ need her, not for companionship anymore as he had many Dov's under his wing, _especially_ Odahviing. Ahh, Odah. She sighed, closing her eyes and thinking of her dearest friend. That was a hard part of leaving – what would she do without _her_ Dovah? There was _no_ way he could come with her, that would be too _obvious_ and she'd never be able to hide him. She would _not_ risk his life as she had no knowledge about the place she was going. She didn't know how Dov would be treated there. He acted like a young Dov at times, and she was sure he would take the news of her leaving a little _rash_.

Shaking her head and beginning her walk down the hill, she began her way towards Winterhold, still musing over who would get was as though this were a will and she was going to die soon. Nilawen almost _wished_ it were that way. How she _yearned_ to see the painted skies of Sovngarde once more, to walk the back-bone bridge and the atmosphere of the grand feast for warriors, but there were also the blooming fields and the little rivers where she could find her peace. It _almost_ bought warm tears to her eyes as her heart beat for something she could never touch again. Back to the matter at hand, she decided she would leave the Dark Brother hood to Nazir, at least the Falkreath Sanctuary. The Dawnstar Sanctuary would be left to her _Dear_ Cicero, the poor man who was drowning in his own insanity, leaving her to wonder sometimes _why_ she didn't slaughter him when she had him cornered and put him out of his misery. Perhaps she felt _bad_ for him, and he had times where he seemed albeit normal, and after she had spared him, there was the time she saw him interact with a dog and it reminded her of an excited child – he was so _kind and excited_. She hoped he would take care of himself properly while she was gone.

Arriving at the entry way to Winterhold, she came from her thoughts to address the guards who bid her hello, a few of them complimenting on her armor as she made her way through town, and a couple ones she had never seen before thanking her for all she had done. Nilawen would offer them a strained smile in return. That was one thing she _hated_. About halfway across the bridge to the College, she stopped dead her tracks and a laugh built up in her chest as she suddenly thought of how Ulfric and Galmar would take the sudden news of her leaving, especially Ralof who grew extremely fond of her since he had saved her life from the very beginning, and they had done so much side-by-side. Nilawen could only _envision_ the fit Galmar would have knowing she left with such a short notice, and didn't even think of inviting him on her adventure. She could remember several times when she lived in Windhelm and that bearish man would beat down her door and drag her around, taking her places with him. A few times she would have to drag him back drunk, or throw him over the back of her horse and escort him back to the Palace. Ulfric, always the wonderful man, never ceased to be _amused_ by the sight of such a little woman hauling around such a large man on her back as though she were carrying a pack. But those were the Nords, weren't they? But poor Ralof, he would heartbroken for _weeks_. She was sure he could find someone to heal it, though.

Making her way through the snowy court, she paid the students no mind, even as they stopped to look at the sight of her which probably looked horrific after that little showdown with Hermeaus, and she threw the front door open, listening as it creaked closed behind her. She stopped, water dripping onto the floor from her _drenched_ clothes, and she could hear Onmund talking, probably telling another story of his family, followed by Tolfdir laughing. It bought a warm smile onto her face and she began climbing up the stairs. "Well, well, if it isn't our _magnificent_ Arch Mage, finally come back to visit us!" Nilawen heard his hardy voice echo through the room, and she chuckled, making her way towards them and almost _instantly_ Tolfdir's face turned into one of concern.

As Onmund was still laughing with his head back and eyes closed, the older man stood up and furrowed his brows. "My dear, child, are you alright?" He murmured, beginning to walk towards her, and that was when the younger Nord became attentive. "I keep telling you _time and time again_ to take someone with you when you leave, one of these days you're _not_ going to come back – "

Holding up her hand with a gentle smile, she silenced the older man, a fond look in her eyes. She would always care for the man, and she hoped he would still be alive and in good health by the time she returned. He was aging, and it _saddened_ her to think that someday she would watch him die while she remained the same. "Tolfdir," She murmured to him, the book in one hand and her other still holding onto her side. "Please, I am _perfectly_ fine. A little bruised up, but it is nothing _serious_ , I _assure_ you."

Pushing Tolfdir out of the way, Onmund instantly was at her side, looking her up and down with excitement in his eyes. " _Where_ did you go? _What_ did you find? Was it anything _interesting_? I notice the book in your hand!" While the older Nord rolled his eyes at the young man's actions, thinking him to be a fool as he paid no attention to the condition Nilawen was obviously in.

Laughing a bit, she shook her head and moved past the two of them, giving the young Nord no answer. "I'm going to rest for a while," She told them, and she was glad her back was turned so they could not see the lie in her eyes. "I may just stay in for the night. Do _not_ bother bringing me dinner, either, Tolfdir, for I _already_ ate." Nilawen told him gently, opening the wooden door that lead to her bedroom, but she stopped before she entered. "Oh, and Onmund, you are _far_ too curious for your own good, dear," She commented with a smirk, causing a flush to spread over his cheeks and the older Nord threw his head back in good laughter.

Making her way up the spiral stair case to her room, she threw the book down on her bed and began to strip her clothes, quickly, until she was as bare as the day she was born. Pulling back her brunette hair, she tucked some of it behind her slightly pointed ears, and her icy eyes scanned over her variety of amours. She wanted something that would _protect_ her, but wouldn't draw _a lot_ of attention. But it was difficult for her to choose as she had no idea the types of wears they had in this new place. _Middle-Earth_ , she believed she remembered Mora calling it. Her Stalhrim armor would not be the choice for that, so she decided on her Nordic Carved set, minus the helmet. It might _not_ be wise to walk around looking like a cave bear. After taking the _horrendous_ amount of time it always takes to put on layers of clothing ( _including_ her armor), she began pulling her hair back and putting it into a fishtail braid as she admired her weaponry choices. She was not sure which might be better for her to take, although she was more practiced in a bow, and her great swords. Nilawen did not know what type of beasts she would be dealing with there, or how those Men fought, or how big they were. Of course, if push came to shove, she would always have her **Thu'um** , but that was something she would try to _avoid_ using as much as possible. Finishing up her braid, the bottom of it resting just below her shoulder blades, she decided on her great sword until she got there, then maybe she could acquire a bow and quiver if she needed too.

Standing up from her plush bed, she moved across the room to her large desk, opening a wooden panel in the wall which held gems and coin of _all_ kinds and _all_ amounts. She pulled out a decent sized one filled with coins and gems, just in case, and tossed it onto her bed. Closing the panel, she pulled out her chair and sat down at her desk, letting out a deep sigh. This was going to be the hard part – writing these letters to _so_ many people, explaining to them that she would be gone, and what to expect while she was away, and what they needed to do for her as a favor.

Minutes turned into an hour, and an hour turned into a _couple_ before she was done, and she noticed the sun was beginning to set in the sky as she laid down her quill and began to seal her final letter. Sneaking outside of the college with her great sword on her back, she held one less letter, leaving the one for Onmund and Tolfdir on her Arch Mage's desk. Making her way towards the Inn, she knew she would find the courier having a drink. Opening the door, she was met with the smell of smoke and the sound of chatter and laughter, and the heat of the fire. Making her way towards the man in the back who sat alone, she tapped him on the shoulder and he turned, looking up at her. "I'm sorry, I don't think I have anything for you, Dragonborn," he apologized with a frown. He had delivered her so many letters, she almost chuckled at remembering, and the few times she threatened him when he told her he couldn't say who they were.

"Nay, sir," he told him, reaching into her breast plate and pulling out her _own_. " _I_ need you to deliver these to me, if you don't mind." Nilawen handed them to him, which he took with great care. "I will pay you a good amount to see they get to their destination quickly and safe."

As she began to reach for her coin, the man held up his hand with a smile. "No need," Her brows furrowed in confusion. "It'll be an _honor_ to _finally_ deliver a letter for you, for once." He told her with a laugh before setting down his mug, standing up and leaving. A small smile graced her chapped lips as she stared at the door. He was such a nice man, and she never even knew his name.

Bidding farewell to the Inn keeper who had wished her a good night, she walked out the door and pulled up the hood of her fur cloak she had put on before leaving the College. Making her way out of the village, she traveled back up the mountain and into the woods where the wreckage of her cabin lay. Hopefully no one came looking for her here, or they would think the worst. Shaking her head, she opened the book on her hands to the first blank page, and it began to hum and heat up, a gentle light coming from the creases in it. "I hate this part," Nilawen grimaced as she remembered the Black Book, hoping this wouldn't be the same. Taking a deep breath before she held it in front of her with stretched arms, and in a voice, that rumbled in her chest and lightly shook the ground below her feet, she spoke: " _ **Zu'u yah fah vomindok, voreistig, vonahl. Zu'u bahlok fah nahkivaar ahrk wundun. Zu'u uth hi, ofun hin soven**_ **.** " **(I seek for the unknown, the uncertain, the inanimate. I hunger for discovery and travel. I command you, share your secrets.)**

 _It was, unfortunately._


	3. If I had a Heart

_w-wowowowowo. guys! thanks you so much for all the favorites and the follows! this makes me so happy, like you have no idea._

 _i really hope i don't disappoint any of you. thanks for following me this far!_

 _lets see if we can make it to the end. lmao._

* * *

 **Chapter Three: If I had a Heart.**

* * *

 _Something in her seemed to fade away, a small light that seemed just a few inches from her grasp, but it was warm and so welcoming, and the voices that came from it encouraged her, shouting and cheering that she stretched just a little bit further. That she was almost there. But where? Where was she almost? It couldn't surly be the place she had always wanted, could it? No, that place was no longer offered to her. Nilawen had come to turns with her immortal life, where she would sit back on a high-back chair in front of a roaring wand warm hearth, watching spiders craft webs on her walls and ceilings as the world that she once knew grow forgotten as though it were nothing but dust swept across the floor. Nilawen would forever watch the people she cared for rot and wither like rose bushes in the winter, and they would never bloom again. As the light began to grow small, and her muscles screamed with rest from her straining to reach, she could feel something being pulled from her body and that was when she saw it; the earth was quaking something fierce, the wind coming down around her like a hurricane, and it was that familiar noise of distant flapping that made her face pale and she could feel the scars that ruined her face burn and tingle. She couldn't turn around, despite what all she had done. The power that was roaring through her veins, that was making her hands shake uncontrollably and sweat drop down her temple. She became hot, like she could feel the rise of heat directly hitting her body, and it slowly became unbearable. The wind was suffocating and thick, and something in her constricted as she heard a distinctively familiar roar, followed by multiple screams and the sound of large buildings falling to ruin._

" _Dragon..." she could hear someone whisper like a soft blow of summer breeze behind her ear, just barely a touch to the tip of her slightly pointed ears, and her icy eyes widened as fear struck her. "Dragon!" Nilawen heard clearer that time, and finally focused on what was in front of her. It was an open field with a wide stone path leading up to a large arch way closed by a stone door. On each side were statues, but she could not make out what they were with the red filling her vision as fire soon consumed the space around her, the flames licking at her exposed tan skin like tiny fingers caressing her, and the ends of her brunette hair singed as it flew out around her too far, getting caught in the dangerous dance. Letting her eyes slide shut, Nilawen could feel a wetness drip down her face as she remembered the burning of Helgen and all those people dying. Snapping her eyes open at the sound of a thundering crash, she could almost see her worst nightmare staring down at her as it's onyx tail swished back and forth, it's electric blue eyes analyzing with every breath she took. She screamed, her face contorting in anger, hatred building up in her eyes like the fire roaring around her frame, but as her cry was let out, she was suddenly falling to her knees as she watched this foreign city before her become swallowed in dragon fire. Nilawen, the Dragonborn, watched helpless on her knees as countless burned before her and her cry for war turned into one of fear._

 _Her days of war were supposed to be over._

Shooting her head up, a slick sweat sheeting her skin and shimmering in the light of the fading moon, she gripped _tightly_ onto the handle of the sword that lay on the ground beside her. Turning from side to side, quickly, taking in the area around her once more, she quickly kicked her foot out in front of her, effectively knocking dirt and rocks over the little fire that she had built to keep her warm, enclosing her in _darkness_. It was then, when she could no long hear the cracking and popping of it, no longer saw the amber glows on front of her, the heat touching her skin did she seem to _calm down_ , and bring her knees to her chest before lowering her head and shaking. Yes, this was it. This was what the great Dragon slayer had become. _Paranoid_. _Fear-stricken_. Ridden with a stress disorder that would haunt her for _eternity_ – _day or night_. Shaking like a frightened child, she tried to breath as she listened to the soothing sounds of crickets chirping, and birds cooing softly in the moonlight.

Nilawen _hated_ herself, curling her bare fingers around the worn fabric of her garments, and trying to ease the tenseness in her shoulders. This was _not_ how she was supposed to be. The woman had become nothing but a frightened _girl_ who continued to try and stay strong. She was a _warrior_ , not a _child_. To have the bravery of a hungry _wolf,_ not wanting the parents she never knew to hold her like a _frightened pup_. Sometimes she wished she knew her family, knew what her childhood _was_ , maybe that would give her a reason to hang on longer for them, to be _braver_ for them. Or would that only make things worse? It also made her wonder if she had known them, what if they had been slaughtered and she might be worse than she was now? Or would she have tried to _live_ out the rest of her life _for them_? Her life held so many what-if's, and for once she wished for something solid. But that's what her life in Skyrim had been. She had a destiny to fulfil, but after that, _what_? She could have never gotten married, or _especially_ had children. The Dragonborn could only imagine the type of life those poor little ones would live, having her as a mother. She was too _finnicky_ and _unstable_ – never being able to stay in one place, not having a good enough tap on her emotions, and there were so many things that would set her back to that one day. She suffered from _nightmares_ when she slept, and _illusions_ when she was awake sometimes. There was nothing left in the world for her, nothing that she could have, not even death. She was to suffer, _trapped_ in her own mind on a daily, and there was no one in this world that could truly understand her suffering except for the **Dov** that everyone had come to fear. She accepted them with open arms, feeling the energy of their soul connect with hers, and it was then she felt at home, like she had finally found her family. But that was _not_ true.

Lifting her head, Nilawen ran a hand through her hair to push it out of her sweaty face and calmed her breathing to something she considered normal, though albeit a bit fast to the average human being. She was beginning to calm down, thinking of the calm hills cloaked in snow of her homeland, the thick forests of the southern lands, and she thought of her friends back home – Mer, Men, **Dov** or, animal. She _could_ do this. It was a _simple_ task for a Daedric prince. The Dragonborn was to gather lots of knowledge and go home. That's all she needed to do. But she couldn't do it camping in the middle of Divines knows where. As she sat, rubbing her eyes softly and letting out a slight yawn, she could see colors beginning to fill the skies and the star began to fade from their stage to sleep until they performed their duties again. It was beginning to turn Morn, and it was about time she left her little make-shift camp and continued until she found a town. She couldn't sit in self-pity _forever_ , fearing things she would find around her to avoid war, lest she die of starvation or being snuck up on and assassinated (if they even had those here).

Traveling by the peak of daylight, where things were just barely visible was not her favorite thing to do, but she was _not_ comfortable staying in one place for too long – especially not in this foreign land. Though, as she traveled in the forest running long a little dirt path she had been on, it did not look so far from her own home, besides the snow, and the _unpredictable_ weather no matter what part of Skyrim she found herself in. It was pretty, to say the least, but nothing she hadn't seen before, though it seemed much calmer – Nilawen had not run into any wolves, mud crabs or, bandits yet, and for some reason the earth under her feet felt softer than her home and the forest was greener and more _full_ of docile life. But it was still early in her travels, and anything could and would happen to her. As she continued her travel, stopping every now and then to rest and look at what the forest had to offer provision wise; the little stream with clear water, the berries around her, how it teemed with deer and game, because _of course_ , she had to stop and replenish her energy.

The woman sighed deeply, fiddling with the buckle on her strap that laid over her chest, holding her great sword to her back. It seemed like _hours_ as the sun was now high above her, smiling down on the world to try and make things happier, though it only lowered her spirits as it made her sweat under her armor and the cloak around her shoulders, and with the thinning trees, she had little shade to hide in. There was no snow and the fur that hung onto her seemed useless, but something kept her from tossing it to the side. She could only hope she was going to end up on a town instead of an open and empty field. The tri-blooded girl was sure she would shout the ground away in frustration, then maybe she would find people, even if it attracted them for the _wrong_ reason. But at the sight of smoke sailing over her horizon, even just that thick stream, she stopped in her tracks and swallowed, straining her ears immediately to listen for the familiar sound of thundering roars and giant wings, and terrified screams. Hearing none, she tried to push her anxiety away, and loosen up the tightness in her chest with a few deep breaths. Maybe the Divines had heard her in this strange land, and answered her prayers. But as Nilawen neared on it, she reached out her hand to the small fence that began to run along the road, and a small smile graced her horrid features.

 _She was close._

Nilawen began walking faster, a little bit of a spring in her step and suddenly the smell of burning pipes, food, farm, and flowers, along with the sounds of human life as children laughed loudly and one buzzed past her, causing her to suddenly step back, almost _tripping_ over her cloak. Blinking away the shock, she looked to where the small figure went, and she noticed it was a little girl… an _extremely_ tiny little girl. She was so much smaller than the children in Skyrim, and it made her tense up once more. Her blonde curly hair stuck up all over her head, and her green eyes shone like emeralds in the sun and were filled with curiosity, but her feet were huge and covered in curls and it caused the woman's face to twitch in wonder. The little girl began taking cautious steps towards her, and out of instinct, the Dragonborn took a step backwards. "Hello!" A small chorus of voices behind the woman shouted, causing her to stumble forward and spin around, meeting a group of tiny children that came to about the middle of her thigh, and for the first time Nilawen had found in her life, she was speechless. If there was one thing in this world she _feared_ more than **Dov** 's, it was children, especially _tiny_ children…. But by the God's, these were the smallest people she had ever seen. Were they even real or was her mind playing a trick on her once more? "Why do you wear such a furry cloak on a hot day?" One of the little voices asked, and her eyes widened as they all gathered around her, tugging at her clothes and her cloak, firing questions like they'd never been anywhere or done anything.

" _Why are you so tall?_ "

" _Are you one of the Big People_?"

" _What happened to your face_?"

" _Are you friends with Gandalf_?"

This was too much – they were _too_ close, and she felt like she couldn't _breathe_ , but she didn't want to move nor speak, for she felt like she would hurt their ears with her voice, or possibly _step_ on one of them. But her mind began swimming, and itching, and she could feel a pressure behind her eyes as they kept circling her and shouting, and shouting and – " _Enough_!" Nilawen yelled, clenching her fists and they all stopped in a gasp, freezing in their spots and her eyes were clenched shut. It was silent for a moment, and her breathing was labored before she seemed to calm down, slowing the beating of her heart and trying to sooth the fire in her veins. They were simply children, and she had to remind herself of that. _Innocent, young, naïve children_. At least she hoped they were children and not some weird form of shape-shifting beast trying to lure her in somewhere. "Please," She murmured more calmly. "I only have _one_ mouth to speak with, and _two_ ears to hear – one question at a time, little ones."

They were still peering at her in wonder, large eyes and mouths open before they suddenly turned and huddled together, whispering and glancing back at her with exaggerated movements. Then one stepped out of the middle, and it was the little girl with almost white curls and emerald eyes. "Are you _lost_?" She asked with a voice that was so soft and sweet, it could have bought Nilawen to her knees in front of her and slaughter an entire town had she only asked. Maybe it was _witchcraft_ these little people had on them, and they were not children at all.

What was she to say? _Yes_? Could she actually lie to these little people? This was the one time she wished in her life Mora was here as she scanned over each of their round faces with no expression written on her face, yet they all seemed to filled with wonder. Thinking of Hermaeus, the muscles in her eyes twitched slightly, and she continued to remember how he told her he would check in on her yet she had gotten no sign of his presence, and she only hated the prince more and more as each hour passed. He deserved every ounce of loneliness he had, honestly, allowing the passage she took to _drop_ her straight from the sky and into a large lake, leaving her not only lost and confused, but completely drenched like a sewer rat. "No," Nilawen smoothly lied, quirking her brow at each of them.

"Then _why_ are you heading up to _Mister Bilbo's_ house? He _hates_ visitors," One of the other children piped up, a little boy peeking out from under a taller girl's arm.

Swallowing, the Dragonborn blinked. What kind of situation was she getting herself into? Turning her heard to the side, she could see that the little trail she was on in fact did lead up to a strange house that was built into a hill, a large, round, green door on the front of it with small windows on each side. But it held a _marvelous_ garden and a little patio, and a small wooden bench by the swinging gate. "I've known _Mister Bilbo_ for _plenty_ of years – since he was young in fact," And there she went, the mercenary, the assassin side of her spilling out of her mouth with each word she spoke, and it was engraved in every wrinkle in her chapped lips. She wasn't sure how long she stood there with those small people, lying through her teeth like the _slimy bastard_ she had always been good at being sometimes, but it was almost fun to her. Nilawen loved children, with _all_ her heart, and she admired them more than anyone she knew, but she so scared of them. There were so many orphans in Skyrim that she passed all the time, even the ones in Honorhall that would love nothing more than to have a home and a mother to love them, and even though she had a warm hearth to warm their fragile bodies, she did not have the _heart_ to love the way they deserved. She never _knew_ a mother's love, so how was it possible to _give_? But even so, even if she was never around, she still had Jordis, her Housecarl in Solitude that – _wouldn't_ be too happy about it but – would take care of _whatever_ she brought into the house. The Nord was a w _onderful_ woman, and very _beautiful_ too, as Nilawen could remember several men flocking to her at her arrival in taverns and inns and the like. She would make a _wonderful_ mother, and while the bret-bos cared for the woman deeply, she was almost _jealous_ of the fact.

It wasn't until a woman (she wasn't quite sure on the gender) came out and shouted at the children to get over to her did she stop talking to them, and _immediately_ the kids groaned and took off, yelling about how they wanted to stay, but she swatted them on their behinds with brooms and pushed them back down the hill. Then, Nilawen met their eye for a moment, and the person glared _deeply_ , mumbling something about how _people need to mind their own business_ and stalked away, leaving the Dragonborn in a little bit of a shock. This person, whom Nilawen assumed to be a woman, only stood up about the height of her ribcage, but seemed to still be as sassy as Vilkas or Skjor when she would ask them a question they found stupid. Shaking her head at the behavior, she figured maybe that woman(?) was their _mother_ or _care-taker_ , and began walking along, only to stop several steps from where she was. She had _no_ idea where she was going. Letting out a deep sigh, once again, she felt her muscles twitch, a habit she had when she was stressed out and wasn't trying to keep a façade. Where the hell is she supposed to go _now_? Sneaking a glance over at the house she declared she knew the owner of, she wondered if maybe that would be a good place to stop, but then she thought back to how the little children declared he _hated_ visitors, and basically saying she _shouldn't_ go there. What if he _did_ slam the door in her face? It's not like she would be _staying_ at his house or anything. She would only be looking for an inn, maybe a map, maybe a place to buy a horse, what kind of currency they had in this world, and well, basically a whole damn lesson on this place. Letting her shoulders sag, she began making the small venture up to his little hole in the hill-side. Reaching up one hand that was curled in a fist to the little green door, she cleared her throat into her shoulder. This had to be the most ridiculous thing ever, besides the time she –

Just then the door was _thrown_ open and for the second time today, she was met with one of the second shortest people she had ever seen, and not only that, this one was covered in hair and looked to be about as old as dear Tolfdir. But he was _much_ shorter, coming to eye-level with her bosom, and not only that… his hair was _whiter_ and thinning, and his hair line was receding, and his beard was much longer and split into two parts at the bottom where it curled at the ends. A small drop of sweat ran down her temple as her eyes narrowed in confusion, though it probably looked more like a threat, the old man paid no attention to it or the fact her hand was still up in the air in the form of a fist. "Good mornin', Lass!" He greeted her, a friendly smile flashing on his face.

Was _this_ Mister Bilbo? That seems… _highly_ unlikely? Those children said he _hated_ visitors, yet this man gave her such a _warm_ greeting and, looking over the top of his head, she noticed all the heavily armored people standing in the long hallway, either huddled together, or leaning against the walls eating or drinking, and some packing their bags. There seemed to be, _ten_? No _twelve_? _Nine_? She wasn't sure. Shaking her head lightly, trying to get rid of all the confusion, she focused back on the task at hand. "Good morning, _sir_ ," she replied, straightening out the heavy cloak that hung over her shoulders, the fur brushing against her jaw-line. "I was hoping you could assist me with directions – I seem to be incredibly _lost_."

There was a small pause, and she watched the short white-haired person look over his shoulder, glancing briefly at someone behind him. It was at a man who stood not much taller than him, who's piercing blue eyes scanned over her for a minute with a judging gaze, one that caused a redness to come to her cheeks and her eyes to narrow at him in suspicion, and his did the same in return. _What_ was this man's problem? It was then he gave a sideways nod to the older man, almost signaling something to him. Possibly a go-ahead? And she wondered if maybe _that_ man was Mister Bilbo. "I'd sure say you are, lass." _What is that supposed to mean_? She turned her icy eyes to the short, white-haired gentleman in front of her who bowed. " _Master Balin_ , at your service! What may I help you with?"

Scratch the short elderly white gentlemen off the list of: _People Who Could Be Mister Bilbo_. One down … _Twelve_? _Thirteen_ more to go? "I'm looking for an inn," she explained to him, placing her hands behind her back and clasping them together. " _And_ a stable where I could possibly purchase a steed, _and_ a map of this province… I seemed to have misplaced mine." She told him smoothly, adding the little – big – white lie at the end, trying not to seem much more suspicious than the man in the back seemed to assume she was already.

"It would be most certainly be my _honor, Miss_ …?" He told her, trailing off and dragging his gaze slowly to the wall before looking back at her.

Opening her mouth before her brain could think, she allowed herself only a slight lip-up of a pause, wondering if she should really give these people her name. What if Mora was _wrong_ about this land and they knew of a Dragonborn and a hero, and what her name was? But, what if they _didn't_ and she was nothing but a stranger. This place seemed to wonderful and peaceful to have **Dov** in it, or any kind of danger. "Nilawen at yours, or Nila, whichever you prefer, sir." She informed him, bringing one hand around to place on her chest and bowing back at him.

"Ni-la-wen," The older man seemed to test the name on her tongue, and as she stood back up to her height, her shoulders seemed to tense in a slight fear of a recognition. "That's quite the strange name, lass, and your accent is unlike any I've heard before..." He told her and she offered him a small smile but no reply, and he didn't seem to press it either, waving his hand in a dismissive manner. It was probably no concern to him, she observed, as this would be the last time she probably _ever_ saw this man again. " _Never-the-less_! I was just about to head to the places you mentioned. Come with me, if you _please_." Balin informed her, causing her inwardly hopeless smile to grow wider and take a step back and to the side, allowing the short man to step out in to the sun, shielding the sudden light with his hand for a moment. Following behind him as he began walking forward, she glanced over her shoulder and noticed the rest of them she saw were following out as well, but following behind, dragging packs and weapons with them, and food and other things, but she paid no attention to it as she walked in slow steps compared to the older man short ones.

Glancing down at Balin, he seemed to only be paying attention to where he was taking her down the little winding paths, and that's when she paid attention to the rest of the town; _it was all rolling green hills, dirt paths, gardens and flower patches scattering the place, a little river running through the middle of it, and a decent sized market place in what was probably the center of town._ Better yet, it was _filled_ with the tiny people, and for the first time in a while, Nilawen felt a _genuine_ smile begin to creep onto her face. It seemed far too wonderful. "I thank you once again, Master Balin. I would probably still be looking for help if not for you," She told him sincerely, looking over to find he was already staring at her, more precisely the hilt of her great-sword that stuck out from the top of her cloak.

He seemed to fall from his trance at her words and he smiled at her. "Of course, Lass. Tis' not in my bones to leave a young lady wondering by herself," And she chuckled, looking away from him, wondering if all the men in this land were as considerate as him, wishing most of them back in Skyrim were. Not that it mattered much anyway, she was not desired there for reasons. Most of the men there were _Nords_ , and saw her as a _challenge_ for her title, or _feare_ d her for it, and her _face_. She was no _housewife_ and she _ne_ ver would be. She was not fit for it, physically or mentally. No, her blood ran with the blade and arrow, and with the wind and the wings that her soul carried her on in astral plains. "… _quiet usual, Miss Nilawen_." The bos-bret caught the very end of his sentence, turning her head quickly to look at him, narrowing her eyes in question, and he simply stared at her as her head tilt to the side. He laughed, a good hearty one too with his hands on his belly. "As I said: your armor is _not_ like one I have seen before, nor is seeing a woman carry such a heavy weapon quiet usual, Miss."

 _Damn!_

She cured herself, bringing her arms up, her hands clenching her cloak to pull it closer to her body and tighter around her. Maybe she _should_ of went with something _different_ , but she was sure this would blend in as dull and colorless as it was. Looking ahead of her, her left eye that he could not see twitched as it looked like they were nearing in on a small building, and she watched a very tall figure cloaked in grey walk out of it grumbling about something and he obviously did _not_ seem happy. "For the first, Master Balin, it is not usual in _my_ homeland either. It is… a specialty. As for the second – "

Thanking the Gods, she was cut off by a series of happy noises from behind her and the vision of short men flashing by her, followed by the one she had eyed earlier walking up to the man in grey, asking him if he had the ponies. The taller man seemed to not pay him much attention, quickly looking at her as Balin stared them both down as well. "I do, they are in stables waiting to be saddled. You did _not_ tell me you made _a friend_ , Thorin," This man, this stranger cloaked in Grey stared her down with a weary look, as though he knew her life, her history, all of the red that stained her ledger, from what her background was to every coin she had in her boot. It made the fearful side of her boil, and she wanted nothing more than to whip out the dagger on her thigh and _slit_ his throat so he could never speak to anyone. _Ever_. But she had to take a deep breath as she heard them speak in her mind, coaxing her to unleash her power.

 _She wished someone would slit her own._

The shorter man – Thorin, she would assume he is – glanced over at her with an _undesired_ face, before his eyes trailed to Balin who patted her on the shoulder and wished her the best of luck. "No, merely a lost _child_ who needed help. Let us _not_ linger here."

 _Excuse him?_

Narrowing her eyes, she could feel steam build up in her chest with heat and she wanted to _blow it all out_. _A child?_ Had this man _no_ idea the things she had been through? Ready to open her mouth and – as Galmar would put it – _tear him a new one_ , she stopped short of _practically shouting_ all her pent-up frustration at him, she remembered that _no_ , he knew _nothing_ about her. _Nothing_ about the things she had gone through, the _people_ she killed, the _Gods_ she had served, the _king_ she had helped rise to success, the **Dov** she had devoured. _Nothing_. So, instead of screaming him to pieces and writing _Torygg_ on his grave-stone, she turned with a huff of anger and stomped to the door of the inn and practically _threw_ it open, hitting the outside of the building and knocking several things over before she walked inside and the door seemed to practically follow her shut, she ignored the two pair of eyes following her form. " **Kiir**!?" **(Child!?)** She _hissed_ , walking over to the small bar and took a seat with a hard drop, feeling the stool beneath her _shake and crack_ a tiny bit. Wincing, she looked at the bartender and mumbled an apology, watching as the little people beside her glared at her with drunken _disgust_. This was not why she was here, _honestly_. Nilawen wasn't here to cause _trouble_ , only to gain _information_ on this place for Mora and then she could go _home_.

"Rough travels?" A voice asked, snapping her from her thoughts and she looked behind the bar to see a man – or _whatever_ these people were – washing a glass out with a rag that looked a bit dirty, he brown eyes peering at her, and a mop of black hair on top of his head.

The man beside her belched _loudly_ , earning a laugh and a rough slap on his back from the man beside him, and she looked at them strangely. He acted much like a Nord. "What you think? She came in 'ere and nearly _destroyed_ the place jus' by openin' tha' door!" He hollered, _slamming_ his mug down onto the table with a nasty look before looking over at her with the same stare, and Nilawen wondered if that's just how he looked _naturally_. "No offense to ye' lass."

Switching her gaze back towards the man behind the counter, he rubbed his temples and seemed as close as she felt to finally losing her cool. "I wasn't askin' ye', ya' drunken' fool!" the brown-eyed man _hissed_ to the drunk blonde who seemed to be off his rocks, and then there was the red-head at the end of the table who was getting a good time out of the _whole situation_. Turning back towards the woman, he offered the most strained smile he could and her brow quirked as he seemed to just pull a mug of ale straight from _nowhere_ and set it in front of her. "On tha' house for ya', courtesy of _this one_ 'ere," he announced, causing the two beside her to groan and throw crackers at him.

" _Thank you_ …?" Nilawen told him a bit unsure, picking up the mug and taking a drink.

The man beside her scoffed, looking at her wide-eyed. Obviously insulted. "Thankin' _him_? Thank _me_! It's goin' on _my_ bloody tab!"

"A tab you _ain't_ ever going to _pay_ ," The bartender scowled, and looking over at the other two, Nilawen noticed the red-head had fallen asleep against the table, leaving only the angry drunk.

"Not with you offerin' a drink to every _doey-eyed girl_ – "

"Doey-eyed!?" The woman narrowed her eyes.

"– that comes in 'ere lookin' like she _'ad a bad day_!" The blonde finished with a raised fist.

"Maybe if you didn't drink nearly _every day_ , you wouldn't 'ave to _worry_ 'bout it gettin' so high."

"You're just tryin' to _rob me blind_!"

"You're already 'alf way there!" It was then they were nearly in each other's faces, and Nilawen wondered if she would need to break up a fight and take them both outside, until the two of them _burst_ out laughing, patting each other on the arm like jolly-good _friends_. She felt like she was still in Skyrim, surrounded by Nords. Maybe these were Nords, just _very_ , _very tiny_. Holding out his hand to her with a bright smile, she slowly took it and he shook her hand with more energy than she'd ever witnessed. "Name's _Odgar_ , Odgar Fairfoot, My Lady!"

" _Bob_ ," the one beside her _grunted_. "Bob Goldworthy."

Swallowing a bit thickly, Odgar let go of her hand and she took it back, looking between the two of them. "Nilawen," the Dragonborn told them. So many people would introduce themselves with their family names added, and that was just something she _never_ did. The brunette couldn't remember what it was, nor did she remember her family, and making one up for herself was just something that never crossed her mind. It wasn't like she had a family to worry about having a last name anyhow. It was just her.

"Nilawen, _what_?" Bob asked her, widening one of his eyes and narrowing the other.

Frowning, she shot him an unamused look. " _Just Nilawen_."

Throwing up both of his hands, he surrendered. "A'ight, A'ight, no need to go lookin' at me like yer' _hungry_ or somethin',"

"Aye', Bob, leave the poor girl alone, eh?" Odgar seemed to scold the older man, before turning and looking at her with interest in his eyes. "So, what brings you to the _Green Dragon_ , lass?"

Running her nails along the wood on the table in front of her, she kept her eyes on the bartender as she spoke. "I'm looking for a map and a steed for my travels, and possibly some supplies…" the Dragonborn told him _slowly_ , trailing her eyes around behind him. "And a _little_ information about this place."

The both looked at each other with a _twinkle_ in their eye before turning to her, and Nilawen wasn't sure how long she sat there listening to the two of them speak, bicker, speak again, and bicker about something else. Odgar told her he could sell her a horse right there, and he had one that no one seemed to want to buy. It was a work-horse type, so it was mighty big, and it was dropped off by a person of her size a few years ago. She was an older mare, didn't seem to be ridden much, but she was calm and sweet none-the-less and was strong enough to get her though any terrain. Satisfied, Nilawen told him she'd take her, and that's when they went on talking about Middle-Earth and … _Hobbiton_. Stopping him mid-sentence, she looked at him a bit confused. "What is a _Hobbit_?" Her brows furrowing in confusion. Odgar and Bob had both said that word so many times, she wasn't sure.

" _Me! Us! We!_ " Odgar exclaimed, smiling at her, always loving to tell tales of their town and land. Though there wasn't much to learn about Hobbiton, he found it thrilling to tell a stranger all about it. "Well, except _you_ of course. Why do you think it's called _Hobbiton_?"

Tilting her head to the side, she looked him up and down, looking at his short stature. It was a _fitting_ name. "I apologize, but I've never heard of a _Hobbit_ before," she explained to him, and went to tell him they don't have people as short as them where she's from, unless they're _strictly_ children.

"It's not uncommon for you _Big Folk_ to never 'ear of a _Hobbit_! We don't ever leave, 'nor do we ever really associate wit' folk much like yer'self. We prefer the comforts of _home_. Adventures are _nasty_ things." Bob told her grumpily from his spot and that's when she looked around, actually, really, looked around them. Everything was much smaller; _from the glasses, even to the one she held in her hand, to the chair that she sat on, the little windows except and the door, but it was all beautifully made and it was made to look like a home_. A warm hearth with rocking chairs surrounding it, carpets strewn across the dark floor, curtains, chair covers, table cloths. It really, and truly looked like she was in someone home, and it made her feel almost comfortable. Everyone there seemed to really know each other, conversing with anyone and everyone. It reminded her of Whiterun.

Turning to look at Odgar, she smirked behind her glass, asking him how much it would cost to rent a room at that Inn. She wanted to stay a little longer and really observe it all, leaning much more about this place. She bet Hermaeus was having a _hay-day_ over all this!


	4. Auld Lang Syne

holyfuckingshitdude. thank you guys so much even though i have no idea why this is liked so much, honestly. probably pity lmoa. but either way, thank you all so much for the favs and follows and my first two reviews. shout out to you lovely people!

 **Shamwoohoo52** : it's cool. i don't mind waiting for reviews. even if i don't get any, i don't mind. i'm glad you like the story though! thank you for that, and the name, i'm also glad you like it. I wanted something that would fit both Skyrim and LOTR's. a lot less questioning of "yo that's a weird name". but now i realize it's going to be more like "yo why do you have an elven name?" also, about mora, i think i stated a couple times that he was just a mass of tentacles, but i didn't want to over point out that fact, but if too many people get confused i'll go in and change it. also, about the speaking, i think i pointed out a few times he was talking slow. again, didn't wanna over point that out, but also i wanted to add a bit more character to him since there's not a lot in the game. also, i can see him being a serious fangirl for the dragonborn.

 **dragonnargus:** not gonna lie, she would probably just think smaug is like a big kitty cat once she meets him compared to the dragon's and other things she's fought. maybe if thu'um's work here, she'll try to shout and bend him to her will. just maybe. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

okay so like, let's just say i didn't really think it through on how she's going to join the company, but we're just gonna wing it - i mean, i totally know what i'm doing, no worries about it.

also, i know nilawen seems really fucked up and confused, but honestly? who wouldn't be after the shit she's gone through. let's follow her on a journey to get over her self pity and depression and bipolarness. yay.

and i don't know if there will be a paring? like, i don't know yet if she'd be good for that, or even who she'd be good for.

* * *

 **Chapter Four: Auld Lang Syne.**

* * *

The wind _howled_ like a wolf pack as the large door was pushing shut, two guards having to face the wind and snow blowing into the large stone room, and the slam echoed off the bare walls, as did their grunts of exhaustion and their tired chuckles. Maybe guard duty at the castle was making them _soft_ , and they needed to start training more, or spend time out with their brothers and sisters in the camps. Shaking off the cold and snow, the young Nord lifted his hands to his face, bringing them together over his mouth and blowing warm air into them. The Castle of Kings bought _little_ comfort for his shivering body, but that was little cared for as he continued to walk across the throne room, walking along the long dining table. He had been in this room _many_ times, and it still seemed ever bare. Slowing his walk to a stop, the younger man was stopped by a bear, blue eyes looking him up and down. The first time the courier boy had met this man, he had to admit, he was damn _terrified_ , especially with that helmet on his head that was made from a bear. It _still_ makes him nervous. "State your business, _boy_ ," This man's voice would always give him shivers.

"I have a letter to deliver to the Jarl. It's from the Dragon – "The boy had never seen someone grab something so fast, holding the letter up the sky as though he were praising it before giving the letter a large kiss, causing the boy to cringe, _almost_ wanting to tell him where that envelope had been.

Turning around, Galmar held it up in the air, waving it around to the Jarl and the other Nord that stood beside the throne. "What do you think, Ulfric? _Another_ invite to a tavern-hop from our dear friend?" The bear laughed, walking closer to the throne that held his best friend, his Jarl, his King, tearing it open.

Ulfric chuckled, straightening himself out in his chair slightly, his grey eyes narrowing slightly but his brows raised in a show of lightness. "Yes, Galmar, because I'm sure the Hero of Skyrim's _favorite_ thing to do is drag you around like a bag of l _uggage_ when you've had too much to drink."

"You never know," Ralof grinned, deciding to throw in his two-pieces, taking a step forward and holding out his hand for the letter. "It might be for _me_. We are pretty _close_." The young Nord told him, wiggling his fingers for emphasis that the letter should be in his hand, and the bear turned to look at the boy, a protective glare on his face. It was no secret that Galmar cared for the young girl, despite the fact she had seen and been through much more than the old man himself, but that was exactly why he felt as a – dare anyone say it to his face – _father_ figure. She was strong, but so beaten, and her friends wanted nothing more for her than peace. The same thing they desired for themselves.

" _I'd watch that trap, boy_ – "

Clearing his throat, they all turned to look at the courier and Ulfric straightened out his back, giving the boy a look of challenge. The Jarl obviously thought that since the letter was here, he should go. His job was gone. "Actually, she told me that it was _important_ they arrived to you quickly." He informed them before turning and leaving. He wouldn't lie, he was curious on what the woman was sending to everyone, but he had a more letters to go – Windhelm was his _first_ stop.

Waving his hand, Ulfric sunk back down in his chair, feeling more at ease now that it was only friends among him. "Let us hear it, Galmar. Tell us what the great legend has to say that she couldn't travel here to tell us in person, and visit a few friends in the process."

Finally pulling the letter out of the envelope, the bigger Nord ran his hand along the edge of the parchment, unfolding it. Scanning the letter, his face dropped and he looked a bit disturbed at the contents it held. Glancing up at Ralof and Ulfric, he cleared his throat before starting over, reading it out loud:

" _Dear, fellow friends._

 _My King Ulfric, my dear Galmar and Ralof, I am writing this letter to all three of you, informing you that I will be leaving the College of Winterhold and I will be gone for quite some time. I thought it wise to inform you of this decision as to leaving you in the dark, and having half of Skyrim torn up at the thought of the Dragonborn being kidnapped or slaughtered. It appears that I have yet one more favor to fulfill, and I do not know what awaits me at the beginning nor the end of this journey. I wish the three of you safe travels, and healthy lives until my return and even after, though I will admit, I am not sure if I am to return. I know, it is not something any of you want to hear, but I must speak the truth as it is weighing heavy on heart and mind. I do not think it will be death that will take me if I were to never return, so fear not for the loss of the legend will not be painful._

 _Ulfric, my King (though you hate being called so until the Moot have decided), as I have said before and I will say it again, you will always be that to me along with a friend. I wish you the best in life, on and off the throne, and I hope everything is well. Maybe by the time I return – If I do – the war will be over, and all we have fought for will not be in vain. I may not be there when the Moot makes their decision, and it hurts me so to think I cannot stand by your side to salute you as you accept your rightful place. But I know you will make a wonderful King you do as a magnificent Jarl. While there are some things I know we still do not see eye-to-eye about, even things that go on in Windhelm, a few things I shall not name at this moment, I still pledge myself to you and support you. I know that you are a very busy man, Ulfric, and you have no time for trivial things, but there are a few things I ask you to take care of when you do find the time. It is nothing big; I am only leaving something under your name if I do not return. Just something I believe may come useful for you in the future if problems were to arise and you needed to be on the battle field once more. It is called the Savior's Hide. It will protect you against many things. A very good man who did some not so good things turned himself over and I got this in return. It will do you more good, than it shall me. I do not know when it will arrive, but it is yours._

 _Galmar, my dearest friend, as I write this by the light of the candle, all I can do is sit and smile at the memories we've shared together. Most of them, I'm sure you do not remember, but you knew they were grand. You've done a lot for me, Galmar, and I know that there have been things you've done in the shadows that I may never know, but my suspicions remain – need we revert to the times of Siddgier before he was thrown from his throne? I do not know what you did, but I thank you for it, and oddly enough I still have that necklace hanging in my quarters. He may have been very creepy and a little obsessive, but it was a beautiful piece of jewelry. I know it is not something a strong heart such as yours would want to hear, but you have always held a special place in my heart, akin to something that I have never known, and I thank you for that. For that, I have paid off my tab at Candle Hearth Hall, and have left it open for you to use as you please. There are also a few things that I am leaving in your name, for you to do as you please, and I'm sure you will appreciate them very much._

 _Last, but not least, my dear Ralof. There is nothing I can say or do that would show you the gratitude that I hold for you. I have owed you my life, though it is not much in my eyes. Had it not been for you, I believe I would be nothing but a rotting body left in the ruins of Helgen from that day. I am glad I followed you that day to Riverwood, for I would have been lost, never being the best with directions. You showed me quiet the bit, and gave me a history lesson on Skyrim that day. You've fought by my side from the very beginning, Ralof, and you've helped me through a lot during the war. You, ever the reliable warrior and friend, I know that you travel often, so I am leaving you my greatest possession – Shadowmere. He is a strong and faithful companion, and will not flee in the face of trouble. I hope you find him as wonderful as I have. I hope it is enough to show my gratitude towards you, as I have neglected to do so before hand._

 _If it is not too much to ask, I have one more favor to ask, for either three of you that are able to carry out this task. There is a little girl in Windhelm who sells flowers that she picks from outside the city walls. I would like to leave Hjerim to her to do as she pleases, now and even after my return. I know that it was a gift from you, Ulfric, but I believe that Sophie could use it more than me. I have no use for it anymore, and if I am not to return, I would like it to be of some use. Please, make sure that Calder treats her well. I'm sure the two of them will get along. Hopefully._

 _Once again, I thank you my friends, for all that you have done for me, and I apologize that I may not be there to watch as life treats you how you deserve._

 _Yours truly, Nilawen._ "

Silence filled the hall, nothing but the sound of wind howling and shaking the windows on the hall. Sighing, Ulfric ran a hand over his face and gave a weary glance towards the large doors leading out of the castle. "That is, it, then…" he murmured, looking over each of his friends and his guards who stared on with curiosity and fear having heard the contents of the letter. " _The Dragonborn is no longer with us_."

" _By Talos, she's not dead_!" Ralof shouted, clenching his gloved hands into fists.

Laying the letter down on the long table, no one met each other's eyes as Galmar spoke. "You heard the letter, boy, she may as well be."

* * *

It had been hours since she left the merry town of Hobbiton, and it almost _hurt_ to leave it all behind. They lived such a peaceful life, cut off from the dangers of the world and responsibilities. It was _perfect_ , and as her mare rode on, she couldn't help but spare a glance over her shoulder though it was miles upon miles away from her. Nilawen chuckled, turning back ahead and continuing forward. Places like that just weren't meant for her. Her icy eyes looked down at her horse, watching as the old mare kept glancing from side-to-side as though she were keeping a watch on things. Her name was Atlas for her strength and size. Nilawen couldn't lie, for she was a _big_ horse, but she was less broad than the ones of her homeland, though Atlas was getting up there in age. Leaning over slightly, she reached down and gave the mare a soft pat on the neck. "Stay calm," She murmured to her, trying to calm her as the mare kept tightening up in stress. "We will be fine. I do not think there is anything out here to harm us." But then again, Nilawen knew almost _nothing_ of this world, and there was probably something lurking behind _every_ bush. At least, that's what the back of her mind kept telling her. She did not know the dangers of this world.

As the sun began to go down, the Bos-breton began looking for a place to stop for the night, and rest – more towards Atlas resting, and her watching the grass grow. There was a thick forest off the path they had taken, and Nilawen decided to let the horse roam free and she would simply rest in a tree, but as she began to dismount, she heard laughter and stilled, but Atlas seemed to be just fine. In her culture, it was believed that animals could sense danger and evil in people, but this place was _completely_ different, so she couldn't trust that. Letting the horse go after removing the saddle and reins, she climbed a tree and strung the two far up so no one could see them if someone were to wander by. Watching the mare scurry off a few feet before stopping to munch on some grass, the woman turned and began her way towards the smell of fire and the sound of talking. Crouched down and hidden in the shadows, the thick vegetation made it difficult for her to see anything, so she decided to rest in a branch. Making her way up the tree, she stopped high enough and sat back far enough to rest on the trunk, and looked down. It was incredibly awful, what she was doing, but she wanted to make sure that if whoever it was would harm her, she would find them first. But her eyes widened at the sight of them… _all fifteen of them._

It struck her. She _knew_ these people! They had been at Hobbiton! The short, older, white-haired one even showed her to the inn. But what were they doing out here, gathered by a fire and some of them sleeping on the ground? Did they not have a home back in that beautiful town? But then again, she remembered the bartender at the Green Dragon talking about odd people visiting, and perhaps it was them. So that meant that none of them were Master Baggins, even the one that seemed so suspicious of her, meaning they must have just been passing through. Well, this was _interesting_. Crossing her arms and relaxing back against the tree, she watched them as some of them snored, some read, one was writing something down in a little book, the larger man dressed in grey was tinkering with a long piece of wood that Nilawen would call a staff if she knew better. She had nothing better to do that night, as she seemed to be lost even with the help of her map, and she wasn't going to sleep in this strange land anyhow.

Time had passed – how much, she did not know – before something happened, that caused the small group to go on high alert, and her brows furrowed, her body leaning forward. It was a _screech_ in the distance, one that sounded like an owl, but frightened was how they reacted. She wondered if she should be worried too, and she glanced back to where Atlas was in concern. "What was that?" A small voice asked quickly from below, and she turned back around, watching a little man – _a Hobbit!_ She could tell by the hair on his feet, remembering what her small friend from the inn told her – wring his hands nervously, glancing at everyone.

Not missing a beat, a brunette replied with a serious voice, " _Orcs_."

Squinting her eyes, she was confused, but watched as someone jumped awake as soon as those words met her ears, and he seemed to be afraid for a split second. _Orc_? She didn't understand. The _Orsimer_ were nothing to fear. They were simple people with green skin who lived peaceful lives in Skyrim, most of them being Black Smiths of heavy armor. Perhaps the ones here are different. " _Throat-cutters_ ," Her eyes jumped as a blonde spoke, informing the Hobbit with a sunken face. "There'll be _dozens_ of them out here. The lone-lands are _crawling_ with them."

"They strike in the wee hours of the night when everyone's asleep." The brunette carried on, leaning forward in his seat and staring the Hobbit dead in the eye as he began to sweat with panic. "Quiet, quick, no screams… just lots of _blood_." Leaning back against the trunk, she sighed. That sounded like something she needed to keep her eyes open for, and not the Orc back home. Another thing to keep her up at night in this strange land. In Skyrim, she honestly didn't fear that, for she was the throat-cutter several times, and an unknown person people feared in the night. Nilawen filled with a bit of unease until she began to hear light chuckles from the two of them and she inwardly hissed, something like that was not anything to joke about.

Apparently, it seemed another one of their company members agreed. "You think that's _funny_?" He growled, and she recognized him as the one from Hobbiton, that one that given the white-haired man permission to show her where to go. "You think a night-raid by orcs is a _joke_?" His blue eyes seemed to be glowing with anger, and his voice low.

"No," the brunette quickly defended himself, guilt written on his face as he stared up at the older man. "We didn't mean anything by it…"

The older one huffed, giving the brunette and the blonde a deep glare akin to what a father would give a child. "No, you didn't – _you know nothing of this world_ ," He told him sharply, turning on his heel and stomping away from them towards a cliff looking over the valley.

It was silent for a moment before a kind voice spoke up, and Nilawen found it hard to tear her eyes from the figure and stood on the edge, his hands clasped behind his back. Her trained eyes could see how tense he was, and for someone to react like that, she could only wonder what all he had been through with these Orcs. "Don't mind him, laddie," Tilting her head, she realized the white-haired man talking as Master Balin. "Thorin has more reason that most to hate Orcs." She figured as much. Nilawen frowned, looking back over the man standing in solitude, who's name she now knew.

"How do you mean?" The Hobbit asked, slowly taking a seat by the fire, keeping his eyes on the white-haired man.

Taking a deep breath, Balin took a minute before beginning his tale, as though speaking of this hurt him personally. Scooting a bit closer on the branch, she watched with interest. Nilawen wasn't a nosy person, not by any means, but she was becoming very _interested_ in this group, and she was learning more about this world as well. "After the Dragon took the Lonely Mountain– " For a split second, Nilawen's face ran pale as she remembered the nightmare she experienced the first night here. At the time, she thought it was her imagination running wild from her past experiences, and rage ran through her body, filling to the brim and she wanted nothing more than to rid Tamriel of Mora. He had lied to her. Of course, he had lied! Why would she expect any different from a Daedric prince? "– King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient Dwarf Kingdom of Moria." Trying to quell her anger, she focused back on the story, and kept in her memory log that they must be Dwarves. _Dwemer_. Something that was extinct in her home. "But, our enemy had gotten there first. Moria had been taken by _legions_ of Orcs led by the vilest of their race: _Azog the Defiler_." Just at the name she watched Balin tense up and close his eyes for a moment, and she watched the muscles in Thorin shake slightly. "The giant Gundabad Orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. _Thorin's lineage_. He began by beheading the King. Thrain, Thorin's father was driven _mad_ by grief and went missing. Taken prisoner or killed, we did not know." Balin exhaled, his eyes still clenched shut, almost as though he were trying to keep out the horrific images of it all. "We were _leaderless_ , defeat and death were upon us, but that is when I saw him…" The older man opened his eyes and with admiration written on his face, he looked over at man standing in solitude. "A young Dwarf Prince, facing down the Pale Orc. He stood _alone_ against this terrible foe, his armor rent, wielding nothing but an Oaken branch as a shield. When Azog went in for the final strike, Thorin picked up a sword and slashed _cleanly_ through the Pale Orcs arm, cutting it off…" Balin's voice grew lighter, with more courage and a light in his eyes as he spoke of their victory. "Azog the Defiler learned that day, that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken. Our forces rallied and drove the Orcs back, and our enemy had been defeated! But there was no feat nor song that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived," he glanced over every Dwarf there, all of them had woken up and were staring at Thorin who had yet to move from his spot. "And I thought to myself: _there was one who I could follow, who I could call King_."

It was then Thorin turned around, the wind blowing slightly and his chest expanded with a deep breath. He looked over his company with slightly narrowed eyes, his posture straight as he began walking back towards them all. A strange sort of _sympathy_ welled up in the Dragonborn, and while a part of her had no idea how he felt, a part of her did. For all she knew, she was the last of her kin, if she had any, and her prophecy told of a **Dov** that wanted nothing more to wipe her out and the race of Tamriel. "What about the Place Orc?" She faintly heard the Hobbit ask, but her icy eyes were still following the Dwarf Prince. "What happened to him?"

Thorin spat his words, like he was getting poison out of his mouth, but he seemed _pleased_. "He slunk back into the hole whence he came. That _filth_ died from his wounds long ago."

While Nilawen felt pride for it all, she couldn't help but notice Balin share a look with the large man dressed in grey, one that agreed that neither of them were so sure on that statement. It wasn't until Thorin made his way back over to his bedroll, did the rest of them relax in their spots or go to their own beds. But as the man in grey looked away from Balin, his eyes wondered up the tree and his grey eyes met hers _straight_ on. She knew she should have been ashamed, scared or nervous at the fact she was found out, but that was not in her nature. In fact, her heart turned _challenging_ as she stared down at the older man and he simply gave her a strange look before turning away from her, but there was no fear or worry, only confusion and curiosity. It confused her, that he had not alerted the Company of her presence, nor have her follow him elsewhere to confront her. Perhaps he did not care about these Dwemer or the Hobbit much? He didn't seem to have much concern for his own safety – for all he knew, she could have been a murderer. She _was_ in some part.

Bringing her hand up to run it along her face, she scanned over each of them, running her thumb along her bottom lip for a moment. She was very interested in them, their lives, and after that story she wondered where they were going… Perhaps to slay a **Dov**? The thought of one being here made her soul _hum_ and _vibrate_ , and her blood run _hot_ with a hunger she struggled to control. It was also pulsing with a rage for that lying Daedric piece of shit, but it was too late now. She was already here. But she did not want to deal with another **Dov** , and the thought of it simply made her sick, but the carnal part of her craved to feel the power of its soul coursing through her. There was no high better than that, and she felt so close to death in those moments that it was almost an _addiction_ that she was trying to cure herself of. It made her life feel real again, and that she was mortal once more.

Turning, she hung her legs over the branch and let them dangle as she grabbed her hair in frustration. What was happening to her? She never _wanted_ this! Nilawen never _asked_ for any of this! Why couldn't she have a life like her _friends_ back home, where it was _simple_ and _norma_ l. She watched several get _married_ , have _children_ and live out dreams of young boys and girls, but no… she was cursed to be _alone_ forever, to want nothing more than her own death, crave nothing more than blood and the souls of her winged enemies. It wasn't what she _wanted_ … not _ever_. But Mora was right – if it was the life she was doomed to be stuck with, why should she sit in nothing but pity for a life she found miserable when there are things she could be doing, and people to help. Glancing back at the small camp from the corner of her eye, she allowed the hero side of her to take over, and if she could help these people she would... _and slay a_ _ **Dov**_ _along the way_.

Getting back into position on her tree, she crossed her arms and legs, and watched everything through the night. Nilawen admired them all, especially Thorin as she remembered her nightmare. To watch everything, you love to be taken away from you as you watch helplessly, knowing there's _nothing_ you can do… those poor people. She could remember Helgen, the smell of burning flesh and the sound of countless screams of people of all ages, to feel the heat and watch it consume everything in its path. To hear the thundering sound of wings on the horizon, the consuming shadow as it flies over-head, it's roar like lightening striking the ground… she had experienced it all. Guilt washed over her as tears filled her eyes, replaying everything she had done for people, and all the pity she felt for herself.

 _She was pathetic, and it was time to try for a change._


End file.
